


Just Ink

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Acceptance, Blood and Injury, Fear of Discovery, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love, M/M, Promnis - Freeform, Secrets, chapter 13 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: An injury from a hunt results in an early discovery of what lies beneath Prompto's bracelets. It's just him and Ignis, but that doesn't make it any easier for Prompto.A short drabble gifted to and inspired by art from mimi19art.





	Just Ink

**Author's Note:**

> So, I absolutely had to write this after the lovely mimi19art fulfilled a request for me and made this beautiful Promnis piece on Tumblr. Seriously, go look at it. I've stared at it for a cumulative ten minutes, by now. And give some love to mimi19art and her other amazing pieces! [Link](http://mimi19art.tumblr.com/post/167993160870/color-palette-09-mmmm-sweet-sweet-promnis-moments/)

The hunt didn’t go as bad as it could have. Take down a few Havocfangs, and call it a day. It could have gone much worse. It could have been his throat caught by those long claws, not just his arm.

Prompto struggled to make his eyes focus. The drab gray material of the tent stretched featureless over his head. Iggy must have carried him back on his chocobo while the others cashed in the hunt. Prompto groaned, trying to sit up. Had he passed out? Probably. Seeing his arm torn open like that, his blood leaking out like water from a faucet. He cringed, his stomach squirming at the memory of the pain and the bizarre warmth of so much blood running down his arm.

“Finally awake, Prompto?”

He turned at the sound of Ignis’ voice. The man kneeled by his side, replacing a roll of gauze and other various supplies into his first aid kit. “That was quite the nasty scratch. I must say, you had me rather worried.” Ignis flashed a slight grin, softening the effect of his scolding tone.

Prompto looked down at his arm, wrapped snug with layers of gauze and bandage and medical tape. Expertly, caringly applied. All of the blood that had run down his arm was gone. Probably cleaned off by Ignis. His eyes drifted further down, and his heart skittered to a stop. His wrist sat completely exposed, those black lines stark and disgusting on his pale skin.

He could barely breath, could barely get the words out between shallow gasps. And when he did manage to speak, his words tumbled out too fast, dancing on the edge of hysteria. “Iggy? Where… where are my bracelets? Oh, gods… oh, gods, I can’t-! I need-!”

A hand rested on his shoulder, pressing him back down as he tried to scramble to his feet.

“Rest,” Ignis urged, tone both kind and firm. Once Prompto gave up trying to struggle and concentrated on holding still, on not screaming, Ignis continued. 

“You bled all over them. Left quite the mess, I’m afraid. I felt it neglectful to leave them so filthy. They’re soaking in a dish, outside,” Ignis informed, watching Prompto carefully.

The blond leaned up just enough to see that his bracelets sat in a bowl of soapy water just outside the tent, as Ignis had said. His attention swung back to Ignis, and his heart threatened to kick out of his chest all over again when he saw those eyes, those damned detail-obsessed eyes, drift over to his wrist. They caught on his bared secret, the one he kept from even Ignis. He squeezed his own eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable as he tried not to cry.

“By the way, what is this? A rather strange design for a tattoo. I’d never thought you the type for such things,” Ignis commented. He fixed his gaze on Prompto, expecting an answer to his curious musing.

Prompto opened his mouth, but it took a few seconds for more than a whimper to come out. 

“I- I don’t know. I had it since… since I can remember. As a kid. They even had it in my adoption papers but they didn’t say anything else and I was just a baby when they brought me in and… and… I don’t… I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Iggy! I wanted to tell you guys. I wanted… I…” Prompto began to shake, tearing his eyes away from Ignis, His fingers curled into a fist above that stupid mark, nails digging into his palm as if the pain could erase it away.

“Prompto.”

Prompto ignored him, another whimper squeezing from his tight throat.

“Prompto, please look at me,” Ignis said with a sigh. He reached out to cup Prompto’s cheek, turning it toward him. Prompto’s face, his trembling lips and furrowed brow, they pulled at Ignis’ heart and spoke of something that ran far deeper than the ink on his wrist.

“If you wish to keep it hidden, then that is your decision to make. It is not my place to pry into something that makes you feel uncomfortable.” Ignis punctuated his words with an accepting nod and a small smile. “Whatever you choose, it’s presence does not change my feelings.” 

Prompto stared at Ignis like he’d gone mad. “Iggy… you dont- don't even know what it is. What it means.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes, letting out a huff. When he spoke, his voice rang with indignance.

“I know very well what this is.” He took Prompto’s wrist in his hands, but held the gunners eyes with his own. Saw the fear swimming among the surface of twin pools of blue, the self-hatred swirling through the depths. 

“It is a tattoo." Ignis said it with a matter-of-fact tone, as if identifying some plant or animal. "I can assure you, my eyes are not so weak that I can't see the obvious.” He adjusted his glasses and peered closer. A faint grin quirked his lips. “Hmm. And these appear to be  _ lines _ . Well, well.”

Prompto spluttered, wanting to yank his wrist out of Ignis’ hand. To hide that hated thing away. Ignis shouldn't be looking at it. Shouldn't be touching it. It was a mark of who he was. Who he was meant to be. Killer. Magitek. Product of an enemy nation.

“It's not- it's-!”

“A superficial but permanent marking produced by ink, injected into the layers of the skin,” Ignis recited, as if reading from a textbook. His eyes dropped down to the marking, and he smoothed a thumb over the branded wrist.

Prompto shivered at the contact. He didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve any of this. Not Noctis, not Gladio, not anyone’s friendship, or kindness, or comfort. Not Ignis. Certainly not Ignis.

When Ignis spoke again, his gaze turned back to Prompto. Soft and concerned, gentle and loving, the sound of his voice echoed the look in his eyes.

“It is merely ink, Prompto. It does not change the wonderful person you are. It cannot go so deep as to mar that beautiful heart of yours.”

Prompto shook his head, messy fringe falling into his eyes. It didn’t matter. Iggy didn’t know. Didn’t know the truth. There was nothing beautiful about him. 

“Lucians don’t do stuff like this to their kids. Mark them like some mass-produced  _ thing _ . I think… I think I’m…” He trailed off to gasp in more air and saw the sequence of letters and numbers leering back at him. “I think the NH part stands for…” He didn’t continue. He knew Ignis’ clever mind would decipher the abbreviation as soon as Prompto spat out the letters. “You should… you should hate me. For what I am.” He yanked his wrist from Ignis’ grasp, starting to curl into himself.

“ _ Prompto!” _

Ignis’ deep bark carried the sound of barely restrained fury. When Prompto looked up, he saw fire dancing in the man’s eyes, burning away the last traces of cool composure. The same strong shoulders that had carried Prompto back to camp heaved with every breath, shuddering as they held up against a storm of emotions.

“I could  _ never-! _ ” Ignis’ words hissed out from his teeth, cutting off as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. 

They sat without speaking, accompanied only by the sounds of their own breathing, fast and heavy.

Finally, when Ignis seemed to have calmed back to his usual self, he turned to face Prompto. Steady hands reached out to wrap around Prompto’s, holding it delicately between his own like a precious, fragile treasure. Ignis leaned forward as he lifted the hand, and nuzzled his cheek against pale knuckles.

“I love you, Prompto. Every single part of you. The parts that I know, and the parts that I have yet to learn. The parts that you share, and the parts that you keep hidden.” Ignis lifted Prompto’s wrist to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the black lines and numbers. Prompto made a tiny, breathless noise.

Green eyes peeked upward, shaded by long, dark lashes. They focused on the wet trails of tears running down Prompto’s cheeks, and Ignis made a silent vow: he would do everything in his power to make sure that Prompto never feared losing his love.

Ignis drew his lips away just enough to speak, and his breath ghosted over Prompto’s skin with every word. 

“Mere ink will never change that.”


End file.
